A way to escape, with a whole lot of running
by Sacsayhuaman
Summary: I mean who doesn't want a teen companion for the doctor? And who doesn't want to be that companion? This is mainly based on myself, but tons of my friends as well, and my fantasies of the doctor picking me up. My first fanfic! Trigger warning/Rated M for: Self harm, depression, a bit of suicidality, loss/greif
1. Chapter 1

**So this is my first fanfic. Its based a lot on my life and what I dream of, the doctor picking me up. Bits and pieces of the main character are also from friends of mine so its not just me. I know a ton of people who would love a teen companion and a ton of teens who would love to be a companion so here ya go! Enjoy and please review! (it means a ton!)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who, or any of its thingies. I am just making a fan made story. But, a lot of this is my own work so please respect that. Okay? Okay.**

_**TRIGGER WARNING: There is some self harm, as well as a lot of depression and low self worth. **_

**Lets go!**

Beep! Beep! Beep!

Grudgingly I get out of my loft bed, and hit snooze on the alarm. Too lazy and tired to walk back up the ladder, I put my hands up and feel through the darkness until I find my bean bag in the corner of my room. I curl up on it into a little ball holding my knees to my chest, freezing from the cold- we no longer can afford to keep the house heated unless it's extremely cold, seeing as its only early December its off. I'm too tired to have the cold matter too much anyways, and I fall asleep. It's a deep heavy sleep. Just black. I don't dream anymore. I have nothing to dream of.

Beep! Beep! Beep!

I shake around. I guess I could hit the snooze button again, but why? It's not like I have good sleep anyways, or a happy dream to go back to. I just like to sleep. It's like not actually being alive, and having to deal with the pain, but not having to die. I would want to die, but it's just not worth it. I'm not worth it. I wouldn't kill myself, but if a car was heading in my direction I wouldn't get out of the way. I'm so numb, I don't even think I would feel it.

I walk around with my hands stretched out. I stroke the wall feeling for the light switch, once finding it switching it on. The light is blinding. I stumble around and head towards my bathroom where I am conflicted with the first hardship of the day, the mirror. I hate what I see. Deep dark circles under my eyes, bushy eyebrows, wide fat hips and tiny breasts, and let's not even mention my stomach. I turn to the side and look at myself, lifting up my shirt and sucking in my stomach to the point that my rib cage sticks out. That's how I want to be. Skinny, lovely, and beautiful. and happy. Why aren't I happy?

I brush my teeth and wash my face. Getting dressed takes forever. At least its winter and okay to wear sweaters. I almost don't want spring to come, because I'll have to hide my scar ridden arms under sweaters in the heat. Maybe I should just try my thighs next time. Once finally deciding on a pair of black leggings, a baggy sweater, and dock boots I grab my bag and leave the house. I skip breakfast. I probably won't eat until dinner, since school lunch sucks. Mom doesn't know that though, I let her get her sleep in the morning. She rarely sees me, now that she has to work two jobs (one being night shift) since my father... I'd rather not thing of that.

At school I don't talk. I don't move. I don't do anything to stand up. I'm too scared of having any attention drawn to me. It's usually negative. Walking down the hallways people look at me and laugh. I catch a glimpse of my best friend, Al, doing the same. I'm not really friends with him anymore, but I still cling onto the memory. I don't have anyone so I guess something is better than nothing, right?

At lunch I sit alone, staring at the wall. I don't eat. I just wait for this 30 minute period to be over. It's some people's favorite part of the day. Lunch. When they get to sit with their friends and giggle and laugh and gossip. It's the part of the day I dread. I sit alone. Doodling on a piece of paper some song lyrics and things that I actually enjoy, like an impala, or just repeatedly the words "hold on till may" until it fills up an entire sheet of paper. But today I'm not. I just write down again and again "Why, Why is everything so hard? It used to be so easy. So fun. It was so much better, then". I've filled up half of the page when the bell rings. My savior. Temporarily, until it rings again tomorrow to sentence me again to lunch.

I look at groups of kids at school like a documenter for animal planet might look at a pack of zebras. I almost stare at them, the ones who always look so happy and are always laughing and talking and I wonder if they have problems. They have to. Everyone does. But they look so happy. all. the. time. and they get good grades, and date, and hang out, and aren't constantly made fun of. They have to have problems how could they not? I know everyone has insecurities and flaws and struggles. I feel most alone when I'm in groups of people and I feel most myself when I'm alone. I just want to lay down in bed and read all day. I want to sleep my life away. I want to hurt. But still, when I look at them laughing and so happy at lunch I almost get jealous, but mainly angry. This rage and envy builds up inside me and it all pulls back down to something a toddler might say; "it isn't fair"

But it isn't Why do I have to deal with self harm and depression and loneliness and uncontrollable anger? Why did I have to have to have a dad tell at me when I was little and parents who fought and no friends and deal with being the weird kid and not ever have the chance to say goodbye and always look everyone close to me? Why? When they get to be so happy. It's not that I want them to be like me. I wish no one had to be like me. I just wish I could be like them. I wish I could be someone else. someone I'm not.

I just got home. I drop off my bag. I don't waste my time even thinking about homework, I guess that's why I'm failing half my classes. it's not like it matters. I'm here alone. Today I've felt like shit and on my walk home I couldn't stop thinking about cutting myself tonight. Mom's working the night shift so I'll definitely be able to in the shower. Honestly, I don't even want to cut. I just do it. I just want my dad. I want him to hold me. I want to be able to cry again. I can't. I wish I could. Tears cleanse, they help. I think I've run out of tears, and what did I waste them on? Stupid things.

In the shower I popped out a blade from a brand new razor. I let the water run and bit my lower lip while I carved little lines into my skin. On my thighs this time, so that they won't be seen, and by my hipbones. I wash off the blood and the soap stings the cuts. I smile in a twisted grin and then break into tears, laying down on the cold hard tub of my shower. At least I don't feel numb, right?

When I drop my head on my pillow I cry until I sleep. What have I become?

I wake up in hot sweats, crying loud. I'm so tired of these bad dreams, these flashbacks to that day. I can't live with it anymore. That was the day that started all this. I know it has to be. It's been six months and the pain is incredibly fresh. I need to get out of this. I want to go home. Back to the past. When we were one big happy family, in one small minute where we were. I want to live infinitely in that one minute. Of pure joy. I want to be somewhere happy. I want to see Dad. I miss him so much. I forget what he sounds like. How can I forget what he sounds like? My own fathers voice?! He would be so ashamed of me. I need him. He always knew what to say. Why did he leave me? Why now? It's not fair! It's not okay! I'm alone and betrayed and I need him and he left me. How could he be so selfish? I just need him to hug me. I need him to tell me it will be okay, even when it isn't. I need to cry on his lap and have him hug me and let me cry. But he's not here. I scream and punch my wall, hurting my knuckles and leaving a hole in the plaster.

I toss and turn, no blankets, blankets, no pillows, pillows, in a ball, flipping pillows, I try every position I can think of. But I just can't sleep. Mom's still not home. I'm still alone. I go downstairs and head out the house, right after checking the time. 11:45pm.

I ride my bike for what feels like hours. Moms probably home. She's probably scared and looking for me. It doesn't matter. I can't stop. I just start biking and I can't stop. I go up and down rolling hills, past office buildings, a loud bar with drunks pouring out, the library, my school. Eventually I don't even know where I am. I should have brought my phone. Or my keys. I'm so stupid.

I stop when I see a big bridge. On the top I look around. I then look down. It's too dark to see the water but I can tell I'm high up. The railings aren't that high either. They're short enough that I could climb over them and... I don't even know what just happened but I'm on the other side of the railing holding tight telling myself I'm not going to do it but being so scared and just knowing I have to. I have to. The wind whips around my hair and I smell the smell of salt water and I feel something in the back of my head tell me "Do it"

"Do it"

"Do. It."

"Do it!"

"DO IT" I yell at myself

"Don't" says an unfamiliar voice that is shockingly calm in comparison to mine. I feel strong arms holding me by the chest. They lift me up over the railing and onto the other side. It is then that I am met with a handsome man in a tan pinstripe suit with thick eyebrows, and big brown hair. His eyes look so sad and old and he grabs me and holds me in a tight embrace. He presses my head into his chest and I inhale deeply. He smells of clove and musk. He smells like my dad. It's when I hear him say again with a cracking voice "Don't" that I break down into tears. He does, too. He holds me until I stop crying and it's in these arms of a stranger in the middle of the night on a bridge in a place that I don't know that I feel at home, that I don't feel alone, that I feel like someone cares.

I realize he is still holding me as tight as he was at first. I loosen my grip and he does his. Its then that I look into his eyes. I see how deep they are, how sad he is. They look so much older than him, I wonder what he has seen, what he has felt, knowing it has been allot. His lips tremble, and it is then that I realize it has to be me to break the silence. I think of nothing I could say to this man, except maybe thank you.

"Thank you" I whimper. I then start to cry again, despite having had stopped.

"May I just ask you why" he asks. British.

"You just wouldn't understand how lonely I am"

"I bet I would"

Suddenly I feel so bad. Like I've offended him. I realize that's what I saw in his eyes. Incomprehensible loneliness. Myself.

"I just want to run away from everything, to escape"

"I know away for you to escape", he smiles "and trust me there will be a lot of running".

He does an about face and walks away "Follow me!" he shouts behind him.

I don't know this man. He could be a serial killer or rapist. This is so stupid. This is the shit people pull in the first 5 minutes of Supernatural. But his eyes. He understands. I know he does. I saw it. This man saved my life. For some reason I felt this great trust and emotional connection for this strange British man in a tan suit. He definitely does not belong here in suburban America. But then again, neither do I. So I follow him.

I smile and begin to cry happy tears, I'm such an emotional wreck. I sniffle and he turns around from his two (long, might I add) stride gain on me and puts his arm around my shoulder, and we walk.


	2. Chapter 2

**Funfact: I do not own Doctor Who or any other brands mentioned. So don't sue me. Not like you'd make any money anyways.**

**This Chapter is a lot lighter than the last one, sorry for starting the story with dropping a bomb on you.**

**Absolutely no trigger warnings here. But be warned: there is tea.**

**Please review. Published writers get paid in money, I get paid in your comments. Feel free to criticize a bit too! (just don't be a dick)**

**Enjoy! :)**

We walked up to a big blue box, kind of like those red ones from London, except blue. It read "Police Phone Box" on the top. He knocked on the door and it opened a tinsey bit, showing a line of light from the inside.

"Get in!" he said with a smile.

"What?!"

I now realized how stupid it was. Yeah like he'd take me on adventures. Like I'd run away from home with some older man. As if I'm that girl. Um.. Nope! He looked sad. He really wanted me in that box. It was almost fucking creepy. I'm so stupid. Why would I trust some random man? My heartbeat quickened, this wasn't normal. I know I should run away. But I demand questions. I can't just not know what this is all about.

"What the hell is that supposed to be and why do you want me in it?!" I repeat myself.

"Umm. Well-"

"Well, what?"

"You're not gonna believe me"

"Try me."

"I'm-I travel through space and time. And this, this is my spaceship. Just walk inside you'll understand"

"You're crazy if you're gonna think I'm gonna believe that!"

"I expected that" he said more so to himself.

Okay, Stella this is the time that you get the hell away. But no. I can't. I need answers.

"You haven't even told me your name."

"You haven't told me yours, either. But I trust you."

"I'm not asking you to believe that I'm Marty McFLy, and a phone box is my Delorean"

"I'm the Doctor. I'm a Time Lord. I'm from the planet Gallifrey in the Constellation of Kasterborous. I'm 903 years old"

"and you're nutters!"

He stands there looking sad and lonely. I could give into those puppy eyes again- but I won't. I ran away as fast as I could and hopped on my bike and biked away. Adrenaline pumping through my heart, combating the fatigue coming from being awake for nearly 24 hours (I can see the sunrise now). I ride and ride. Looking back I see that he has not moved. Maybe he just is insane, a nice dude, not a serial cannibal or something from Dateline TV.

Whirr Whirr Whirr

I stop my bike and look out at a field to my left towards that strange whirring sound, to see nothing but a transparent blue phone box becoming more and more opaque. My jaw drops. That can't be possible. That box is far, far away from me. I must be seeing things from being so tired and emotional. There isn't a way to move a move a POLICE BOX, at least not that quickly. But then the door cracks open and I see a man walk out, wearing a tan suit and a trench coat. His hair moving around in the wind ridiculously. It can't be him. But it is.

He wasn't lying. He wasn't crazy. He's a freaking Marty McFly! I wonder if brits would even understand a Back to the Future reference, let alone a British alien..

He runs closer. Once he's up in front of me he isn't even out of breath, he must run a lot.

"Do you believe me now?" He asks smirking

"As much as I hate admitting I'm wrong. Yes, I do. But don't tell anyone"

I run up to his phone box and he walks following. It's almost like a parent following their kid while they run up to the swing, like dad used to. I shake the thought out of my head. No. This is time to be a happy camper (err... time traveler!). I need to let myself be happy. I force a smile, then I realize it's a real one. My first real one in a long, long time. He smiles at me, and then I realize.

"So, how do we both fit in that?"

"Just walk in." He says, obviously knowing something I don't.

So I open the door and- HOLY FUCKING SHIT ITS FUCKING WHAT. I run around the console and the massive room and then to the door, poking my head out of the box, but not daring having my feet leave this magical place. My eyes are wide, my smile from ear to ear.

"It's bigger on the inside!" I shout.

"So, You have all of space and time in your hands where do you want to go?" He asks ecstatic

"Honestly, I just need to sleep"

He nods, sudden understanding and remembering of everything that happened this night, not just the super cool time travel thingy. He clicks random buttons, and pulls levers.

"The T.A.R.D.I.S. is making you a bedroom right now. It should be a minute, let me grab you a tea"

He leaves the room and comes back with two mugs of herbal sleepy time tea, and a plate of cookies.

"Tardis?" I ask

"Oh, it's the ship name. Time And Relative Dimension In Space"

"ahhh.." I sip my tea

"Care for a biscuit?" he asks gesturing to the cookies

"You obviously don't know what a biscuit is. That's a cookie"

He laughs to himself.

"Would you like to talk about tonight?"

". . . You're the first person since my Dad. . to ever really ask me whether I wanted to talk about my feelings or not"

"Well, do you? Or would you rather not think about it. I can relate to both"

I sip on the tea. It's so warm, it makes me feel whole and comforted from the inside out. We are sitting down with his arm on my shoulder my head on his.

"I'm so lonely. I just had one friend. And then I lost him. He was my best friend and he just.. I don't know. Forgot about me. You know what I mean?"

"I've had friends forget about me, too. I had this lovely one- Donna. Oh. You would love her. She was quite- sassy. She kept me in check." He smiled with his lips but looked so sad in his eyes. I almost felt bad talking about my problems to him. "Tell me more about you, though"

"I just. I keep losing people. I've started giving up on life. It's not like I'm that important anyways..."

"Do you know, in 900 years of time and space, I've never met anyone who wasn't important before?"

It was that sentence that made me feel whole. About Al, cutting, Dad, Mom, the fights they used to have, how he smells like dad, when I made myself throw up, looking in the mirror, my nightmares, punching the wall, everything. I never did get to see the room the T.A.R.D.I.S. made me. I fell asleep in the Doctor's arms, telling him things I've never told anyone before, to the smell of my father long gone.

I woke up in a soft large bed, with a cup of tea, toast with jelly, and eggs on a bedside table. This wasn't my bed. Last night couldn't have been a dream. The Doctor must have carried me into my bedroom to sleep in the night. The same way Dad did when I was little. I looked to the side and saw that the walls were bookshelves, except for one with a walk in closet. Full of converse and keds, my favorite shoes

"The T.A.R.D.I.S made this room according to your tastes" Said the doctor, leaning on my door "Apparently you like converse."

He then pointed his foot and span it around. "A woman of my kind, eh?"

I smiled and took a big bite of toast "Jazz Age Paris"

"What?"

"Oh all of time and space. I want to see Jazz Age Paris and dance the Charleston with the flappers and come across Hemmingway"

"I can do that. I can definitely do that"

And so, my nutty man in a suit grabbed my hand and ran me to the console of the ship.

"Hold on!"

I grabbed a railing and he ran in circles pressing buttons and making noises. I jolted up into the air and bounced like you would want you sat in the back of the bus on field trips in elementary school, times a hundred or so. And then I heard the same Whirring as before, and it stopped.

"We're here. You might want to get dressed in some less conspicuous clothes"

I looked down and realized I was in my sweats and hoodie from last night, or 80 years in the future. My shoes were gone. He must have slid them off last night, 80 years from now! Ahhh! Time travel makes for some confusing tenses. But wait.

"Hey Doctor?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm not born yet. Won't I like fade away or cause apes to rule the world?"

"No. See

"Oh." I have no clue what he's saying but whatever. I'm in PARIS! 80 years ago!

I run and change into a flapper dress under a pea coat and heels and run to the door, pulling it open and stepping out, smelling cheeses and smoke and hearing-

"Wait, is that English?"

"The T.A.R.D.I.S. translates almost every language"

"Ohh, like the babble fish from Hitchhikers' guide!"

"eh?"

"You're a time traveler and you haven't read that book. What a disgrace!"

I tug him out of his Tardis and into 1920s Paris. It's beautiful, even if this would make apes rule the world, it would be worth it.

**Did you enjoy it? I know I kinda crammed in a lot of references. What do you guys think? What would you like to see?**

**Review and let me know!**

**Also, I have a *bad* blog on this website called tumblr so check that out! (link below)**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey Homies! I had so much more I wanted to add to this chapter, but I couldn't for length reasons. I have tons of tricks up my sleeves so keep reading and share this with people! It means a ton to see how many of you are reading this :)**

**As always, it means a shitton to me to get a review so please tell me. Also I'm wondering what are your headcanons about Stella and her dad. Don't worry you'll find out more about that soon.**

**Funfact: In the upcoming chapters there will be some kinda supernatural stuff, not enough to be a crossover but you'll see. If you don't watch the show Supernatural, you'll still get it don't worry. **

**Anywho, thats all for now...**

**Let's Read!**

I walk around, I'm absorbing everything. It's like a sensory explosion. The Doctor landed the T.A.R.D.I.S. in view of the of The Palace of Versailles. The skies are pink, and void of all clouds. It's warm and the sun is beginning to set and the streets are cobblestoned and the lanterns on the sidewalks are starting to flicker on preparing themselves for a summer night in Paris and there are couples kissing and people walking out of a nearby bakery with breads in their hands and I can smell fresh pastries wafting out of the door and the cars on the street are old and probably the first and I smell cheese and wine from a cafe down the street and I hear a man playing accordion and singing and my heart hums La vie en rose by Louis Armstrong and I fill humid air on my skin and the Doctor holds my hand and his hand is warm and there for me and I am happy because I am not alone. I am happy.

All the books I've escaped to about the jazz age, the flappers. All the hours I've spent on Google earth, images, and with my head burrowed into travel books. All the jazz and French music I've listened to from this city and this time. And now. Now I am here. It brings me to tears.

"Why are you crying?" asked the doctor

"I just haven't been this happy in- well I can't even remember"

He smiles at me and I can tell he is happy and I can tell he hasn't been in a long time either. I'd like to say thanks and ask why me, why he is doing all this for me ,when no one else has done anything for me, except Dad. I don't think he would even understand why I am so happy, why I need to say thanks, why I can't comprehend how someone is being good to me. But I don't. I just squeeze his hand, and he squeezes mine. And the way both take a stride towards the palace tells me he understands.

We walk towards the palace. We enter through a massive golden doorway to the gardens of flowers and lovely shrubs all sheared in the shape of women, cones, flowers, men. The people being in the headless roman style. There are huge fountains gushing water and a perfect circle reflection pool. The moon shimmers into it and I dip in a hand, touching the moon. It ripples out slowly into little circles across the pool.

"It would be fun to go to the moon" I say more to myself than to the Doctor, in a surreal state, forgetting that with his help I probably actually could go.

"There's a great theme park up there. Wonderful roller coasters." You. Have. Got. To. Be. Kidding. Me.

The Palace is the epitome of French classical architecture. I walk up the door to open it and pull but it only budges a little. Oh how I would love to go inside and see it, but its locked.

"Can you get in?"

"No, it's locked"

"Oh that's a pity. I guess we'll just have to go some other time"

"Can't we just take the T.A.R.D.I.S. straight into here? Don't you have something- you're a time traveling alien and you can't even pick a lock or something?"

"Oh wait. Maybe I can get us in" he grins and puts his hand inside his coat and whips out a kind of little laser pointer thingy with a blue light. He puts it on my noise and pokes it "Boop!"

"And what is that alien technology you just boop-ed me with?"

"It's a sonic screwdriver"

"Great, now are you gonna laser blast the door open?" I say while taking a few steps back.

"No. This doesn't make lasers. That would hurt people. Doesn't hurt, doesn't maim, doesn't kill. But I'll tell you what it does do- It is very good at opening doors" and with that he points the sonic screwdriver at the door and it flings wide open.

"You like drama, don't you?"

"You like being critical, don't you?"

"Well actually yes. Yes, I do!"

"Man, you would have loved Donna"

"You keep talking about her, tell me what happened to her"

"Well- that's a story for another time." He Runs into the front room of the palace a stares back at me his eyebrows cartoonish high "ALLONSY!"

When the doctor and I leave the palace its already dark. We walk on the cobblestone streets of Paris at night and look up at the clear dark blue night sky light up by the Eiffel tower, like the north star, and yellow streetlights. We cross a bridge and I look down and I look all around and a gust of wind whips around our hair and I hug the doctor. Just 24 hours ago I was on a bridge hugging the doctor feeling the complete opposite of what I do now.

And old, er probably new, car drives past and stops. It is red with circular headlights and curtained windows, probably a crossley car or something. Out from the window a voice yells "Nous allons à une fête, entrer!" (We're going to a party, get in!) and the doctor looks at me as if asking me if I want to go and this time I am the one to take the first step towards the car.

When we land at the party there is soft jazz playing with piano and a singer. All the dresses have fringes that move when people swing and deep cuts into the back, and the girls have their hair pinned up short like mine. There are so many sequins and women with long gloves. I see one even wearing a boa scarf thing (like the guys do at pride parades!). The men all wear three piece suits with bowties. I catch the doctor staring at one of them the way my older brother used to stare at girls in yoga pants. Is the doctor gay or maybe he has a thing for bowties?

A man at the door offers to take my coat and I hang it to him. Its once it's gone that I remember that I chose a sleeveless dress, and that my arms are exposed. My scars are deep and ugly up and down it. The man looks at me funny and the Doctor looks down at my arms. He takes my hand and kisses me on the wrist.

"Don't do that to yourself anymore. You're too important for that"

Before I could tell him that I'm not important a fast song picks up and everyone heads out to the dance floor, a young blonde grabs the doctor by the collar and they dance. They're so happy, and after seeing how sad he is earlier in the T.A.R.D.I.S. I almost don't mind sitting in the corner as everyone dances, this time it's okay.

As the song starts to end a woman comes up to be, she has a roman nose and deep brown eyes, sultry makeup and smudged lipstick, a glass of wine in her hand and a love mark on her neck. Her hair is falling out of its pins and her heels are scraped. The way she looks, the way she walks, everything she does looks sexual.

"What are those hideous marks on your arms? You really should wear gloves next time- maybe then you'd have someone to dance with" she laughs at me, and strokes the inside of my arm. I stand there dumbstruck, no one has ever been so blunt about my scars with me they usually smirk and look away. For once I can't think of a witty remark I just stare at her scared hoping she'll disappear. Does she even know what these are? People didn't cut in the 1920s.

"Humph, how'd you even get in here anyways? You look like a mutt. You can't be all negro, are you colored?"

I didn't answer.

"Well, girl tell me. It's a simple question. Or do you not know?" after realizing she had hit a nerve she smiles "I hear a lot of negro fathers leave- did yours?"

My hands clench into fists. I glare at her. And then I slap her hard across the cheek.

"Don't you **dare** talk about mydad!" I shout. I didn't notice the doctor and the woman coming back over here, until I hear a shrill giggle.

"Oh Amelie, you witch, you've had that coming for a long time!" yelled the woman who danced with the Doctor. Amelie tossed her white wine in the woman's face, who just laughed and said some questionable words, as Amelie stomped away in her heels.

"Hi, I'm Zelda" said the giggly woman extending a hand.

"You're American"

"We'll last time I checked I was!"

She hands a gin and tonic she grabbed off a server's plate, as a reached out for it the doctor slapped my wrist, and took it for himself, explaining that I didn't drink due to religious reasons and glared at me.

"Hey Scott!" she yelled, this woman likes to yell, across the room at a man smoking a cigarette, he looked up and walked over holding Zelda by the waist.

"Hello there, Old sports" he said to us

"Wait" it had finally clicked. "You're the Fitzgerald's!" I looked at the Doctor "THEY'RE THE FITZGERALDS!" I mouthed to him.

"Mm, and What's it to you?" said Scott, not paying too much attention  
"Oh my god. Oh my. asdfghjkl ever since I read Gatsby in English 10 and saw the mov-

I felt a sharp jab in my ribs, "It hasn't happened yet" said the Doctor in my ear.

"Well, aren't you a little firecracker, Ms.. umm.." Zelda said loudly

"Stella"

"Beautiful name, I hate my mother for mine- among other things" Zelda smiled and I could tell she was one of those people who covered their past with a laugh and smile "How about you guys come over to our place for a drink? We have nonalcoholic drinks too, and the Doctor tells me you're a reader, Scott and you could talk about literature"

"Oh yes, I never tire of that topic" Scott chimes in "So, Would you like to come?"

"A drink with you two, Oh YES"

As we walk out I step on my tip toes and whisper into the doctor's ear "Is this the real life or is this just fantasy?"

"I don't know but it's an escape from reality, look up to the skies and-

"Allonsy" I mock him, with a wink.

**Are you guys liking the Donna references as much as I love writing them? Also look at the french music I was listening to to get in the mood of this chapter here ( /purpleserotonin/french-songs-that-make-you-happy- while-you-re-drinking-a-cup-of-coffee)**

**Please review- like I said above I'd love to hear your headcanons and theories for EVERYTHING. (I might even take them into suggestion for the story, who knows?)**


End file.
